


August Is Calling

by Not_a_Real_Writer



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Nothing graphically depicted but there are guns/knife mentions/ allusions to abuse/kidnapping, Officer!roman, Private detectives!patton and logan, Theif!virgil, blood mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_a_Real_Writer/pseuds/Not_a_Real_Writer
Summary: A life built on lies can only last so long in the face of those who care.The problem was- Anxiety was a theif, and a damn good one at that.Too many of the wrong people knew this fact.When perhaps the right people learn who he is, what he does- will he be willing to take that chance?





	August Is Calling

**Author's Note:**

> This has been one heck of a ride participating in the ts-storytime big bang:D
> 
> I've learned that there are things I need to improve upon, I've learned that there are things I love and do not love. Meeting new people through this event has been a blast and in the end I wouldn't change a thing.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy this amalgamation that's been in the works for a long time <3
> 
> My tumblr: 3-has-charm
> 
> My ever patient artist who I do not deserve: easy-meta-knight

_ They wandered through the different rooms of their house, glancing suspiciously at every item in it, as if each and every knick-knack had done them a personal offence. Every piece of furniture a tell for some sort of misdeed. _

 

_ This was their home, but suddenly it seemed off. Wrong. _

 

_ Nothing was missing as far as they could tell, but what did that matter. The state of their house was in order and it hardly made a difference to this whole affair. _

 

_ They’d come home to the front door left ajar. _

 

_ They were allowed to worry. _

 

_ ~ _

 

Logan jots down the necessary information, looking up briefly with a considering look. He points with his pen,“Did you touch anything?”

 

Talyn looks down in thought, “Other than the floor when I did my little walk through, no I didn't,” they sip at  their tea, saying matter-of-factly,“I didn't want to muck anything up in case there was actually evidence of something… suspicious.”

 

Nodding in approval, Logan glances at Patton, looking at him in silent question. A case worth taking?

 

He in turn gives a small shrug, nodding imperceptibly.

 

Facing them properly once more, Patton offers Talyn a placating smile, “And what  would you like us to  _ do _ specifically?”

 

They sigh running a shaky hand through their hair, “Whatever you can manage please,”  they pause, looking between them seriously, “Fellas- I'm cautious and paranoid at the best of times. I walked through my  _ home _ feeling like everything had been moved two inches to the left without any way of fixing it . Find who did it, or find what they took, or how they did it…”

 

  A steadying breath, and another sip of their tea leaves the plea to hang momentarily in the open air.

 

  “I don't have anything substantial to prove that something’s wrong so I can't go to the police, but then again,” they shoot the two a wry smile, “I'm not a private detective.”

 

  Patton passes Logan another look, this time nodding his head firmly.

 

_ ~ _

Saying goodbye at the side door, Patton pulls back from his hug with Talyn, a worried expression prominently pointing down at them.

 

“Is there anyone you can turn to? Anyone you can stay with after all of this?”

 

Talyn reaches up to pat his cheek reassuringly, “I'll be fine- I'm actually staying with my partner for now.” 

 

They turn to watch Logan as he methodically picks up the remnants of their snacks and drinks, goodbyes having already been exchanged.

 

“Joan, wasn’t it?” he asks, stepping past them and towards the sink, cups clinking softly together in hand. He looks over his shoulder inquiring.

 

They nod, “In fact-,” here, a short and thoughtful pause, “They were the one to recommend that I come by and see you two.”

 

Patton beams, worry satiated for now, “Well I'm glad then ‘Joan’t you know.”

 

Smothering a grin, Talyn takes their leave with one final wave goodbye, stepping out and closing the door behind them.

 

Patton turns to Logan's aghast face, giggling brightly as he watches him fight a smile twitching at his lips.

 

“You and your puns,” he mutters, both cross and fond.

 

Shaking his head in quiet bewilderment, he presses a chaste kiss to his cheek after noting the time on his watch. Carefully making his way to the front door, he calls over his shoulder, “I failed to mention to our next client that it would be best for all involved parties to go through the side door.”

  
  


_ ~ _

 

  Tuesday mornings left little to the imagination as far as predicting how the rest of the week would go.

 

  Especially this one, Logan thinks absently, leaning his back against the edge of the door frame to gaze up at the cloudy day. 

 

He ignores the pedestrians passing up and down the sidewalk just down the front steps of his office. Instead, paying special attention to the way the day seemed so bright, even without the familiar summer blue sky, the white clouds almost blinding in their stark reminder that autumn was setting in.

 

  Pushing off the frame, Logan leads the lone figure that had made their way up the stairs into the building, and away from the light.

 

  Together they pick their way past miscellaneous piles of books, papers, and stacks of important looking folders; the former taking memorised and familiar steps through the undeniable mess, and the latter doing his best to follow the example.

 

  He muses that perhaps the whole place would look much nicer if there wasn't so much scattered over every other available surface. Frowning slightly, he unconsciously pulls his coat tighter around himself. It would also be more pleasant if they'd open a couple of windows. Heavy looking curtains blocked most of the natural light from filtering in.

 

  The dark walls and high ceilings leave the faint impression that they were attempting to act imposing well before their proper time of ‘ancient’ and ‘foreboding’. The shadows of all the rooms not quite warping the space they filled so much as occupying it valiantly as if to validate their very existence.

 

  They stumble their ways into the dining area, Logan moving to perch himself against the table while the other stayed back, hovering in the doorway.

 

  “Mr. Sanders?” a friendly voice inquires.

 

  He stands up straighter, finally moving into the room as the apparent source of the voice drew closer, “Just Thomas please.”

 

  “Well ‘just Thomas’, the name's Patton,” he greets warmly, setting down a tea set next to Logan, glad to have noticed a small smile tugging on Thomas’s lips.

 

   Gesturing for him to take a seat, he moves to gently nudge Logan into place as well, until they're all sitting comfortably with cups of steaming tea distributed between them.

 

  Thomas wraps his hands around his, nerves settling at the comforting warmth, staring curiously between them.

 

  “So… how should this start?”

 

  Logan looks steadily back at him, pen poised readily above his notebook.

 

  “Perhaps start with your story,” he suggests, indicating Patton with a tilt of his head, “My partner will need to know everything you had previously informed me over the telephone.”

 

Patton nodded thoughtfully, focusing solely on Thomas and moving to mirror his pose as he reached forward to wrap his fingers around his own cup.

 

  He adds, “And please don’t hold back from any detail at all that you can remember, no matter how big or small, when you fill us in with the rest.”

 

  Thomas nods, lightly tapping his fingers against the glass, “I'm a small time director of sorts at Sandman Studios,” he hesitates for a moment, continuing, “You might have heard about ‘Very Jekyll and Hyde’?”

 

  Patton beams, nodding enthusiastically, “I really enjoy your knack for storytelling Thomas!”

 

  A faint blush appears on his cheeks when Patton nudges him playfully, and Logan nods his head in agreement, “The tagline was ‘man and his identity’, wasn't it?”

 

  Smiling graciously, Thomas flashes a quick thumbs up, “Yep! Thank you guys, really. It means a lot to me knowing that people enjoy our work,” he pauses, earnest smile dimming, “Though… I  _ am  _ pretty low on the production chain so, it really does hurt all of us at the studio when things go missing.”

 

  They catch on to his implication quickly; Logan making a careful note, Patton nodding along beside him. “And you don't really believe things have simply gone missing, do you?”

 

  Thomas fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves, smiling sadly, “I wish I could just fix everything, you know? I don't know what to do when we can barely scrape by without certain pieces of our camera equipment. Pretty important and expensive pieces to replace too.”

  “Is there anyone you can imagine that would want to hinder your work?”

 

  Thomas shrugs helplessly.

 

  “Anyone you can imagine who would possibly be, even jealous? Of your success? No one who seems to stick closely to you?”

 

  His face clouds over, a serious frown etching it's way onto face, “Listen- the only people that ‘stick close’ are my friends, and I trust my friends... maybe I can be a bit blindsided when it comes to my faith in them, but,” he forces himself to relax, smiling apologetically. “I know them. All of them.”

 

  Patton smiles sympathetically, “Of course.”

~

 

  Striding through the usual hustle and bustle of the police station, Logan and Patton slip quietly into one of the back rooms, waiting patiently for Roman to notice them.

 

  He posed a familiar sight, standing in front of a packed bulletin board that went wall to wall, staring intently at the jumble of notes and photographs littering a particular section.

 

  Stepping back, he runs a quick hand through his hair, sighing frustratedly.

 

  He addresses them without turning around, “There are no more obvious connections to this whole thing than there were the last time you fellas were in here.” He tosses a smirk over his shoulder, “Though I'm guessing you aren't exactly here to make this case any simpler, huh?”

 

~

 

_   Rain dribbled steadily over the back of Romans hat, the rim of the peaked cap hardly doing anything at all to stop the falling water from making an uncomfortable and steady stream into his coat and down his back. _

 

_   If the captain would just let him make his move… _

 

 _There wasn't any evidence left for them to parse from the local park murder, and yet here he was. Stuck tailing yet another_ _suspect outside of his home, out in the cold and wet for the next who knew how long._

 

_   He was able to convince the captain that this was the man worth looking into, but that was as far as the circumstantial evidence could take him. All he could really accomplish now was waiting... _

 

_   And then an umbrella had found its way over his head cutting through his train of thoughts, and he'd sighed in relief, turning to thank the man who held it out for him. _

 

_   “Thank you so very much for this- though I should warn you that you ought to not do it for much longer,” he sighed regretfully, gesturing haphazardly to the building behind him, “It won’t be worth your time because I'm gonna have to be standing here for another…” he trails off, mouth twisting unhappily at the reminder of his wasted time. _

__

  
  


~

 

  Patton grins in loo of hello, bright as ever, stepping forward to lean back against the table beside him. Shrugging off his hat and coat, Logan comes closer as well, scanning a fresher segment of the board.

 

  Opening up one of the numerous files they had brought with them, Patton passes out papers, photos, and news clippings between the other two, watching as they fit them into different places against the rest of the chaotic organisation of the board.

 

~

 

_ The man with the umbrella waves his hand in dismissal indicating the man behind him with his head, “My partner and I live in this building and-” _

 

_ The other one interrupts, “We insist that you use it for as long as you need to.” _

 

_ Roman gaped, a slow grin taking over his features, “Well I- thank you …?” _

 

_ Shaking hands while accepting it into his charge, Roman learns that his name is Logan, and his bubbly companion is Patton. _

 

_ Before the moment came when they seemed that they would part ways, Patton gently nudges Logan's side prompting him to speak. _

 

_ Roman waits. _

 

_ Finally, Logan gestured at the entirety of Roman, though more specifically, at his sodden uniform. “You are a part of our precinct, correct?” _

 

_ He tips his cap with a short nod, curious. _

 

_ Adjusting his glasses, Logan gestures again to the entrance, “No doubt then; you are tailing one of the major suspects of the recent… attack in the park?” _

 

_ Roman purses his lips, nodding slowly in confirmation. No need to correct him on the official status of the suspect.  _

 

_ Next to that, he was standing rather unhappily in the rain just moments ago, not even a small attempt made to disguise his uniform. It wouldn't really take a detective to put two and two together. _

 

_ ~ _

 

“Any hunches detective?” Logan asks, moving to stand in front of a row of mugshots, aptly labeled with the word ‘suspects’.

 

“And here I thought you didn't deal with those,” Roman replied cheekily.

 

He rolled his eyes, lips quirking up into a faint smile, “But that does not necessarily mean  _ you _ don't, hmm?”

 

Conceding, Roman smooths out a couple of photos, moving to stand at the end of the row, jabbing a hand at the first in the line.

 

“Louis Marvin here and nearly half of all the others technically have the skills to pull off the string of robberies that have been happening over the past couple of months, but,” he pauses, rolling his eyes and exchanging a quick conspiratorial smile with Patton before continuing, “I suppose you fellas already had that gathered, considering the amount of fingers the papers have been pointing all over the city.”

 

He shakes his head, muttering crossly, “I swear they make it next to impossible to operate in secret around here.”

 

Logan pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, silently agreeing with him. Using his other hand to gesture Patton closer, he tilts his head to the photos,“You remember their individual case files?”

 

He nods confidently, “Just shoot me their names and we'll see who we have to work with.”

 

_ “ _ Ricky Malone.”

 

“Not likely; they pulled a stint once last year, but word on the street is that they're ready to move out-”

 

“The perfect time to make some quick cash and then skip town,” Roman interjects, thinking quickly.

 

Patton nods graciously, entertaining the idea briefly, “Perhaps, but not likely; considering the inheritance they're moving to receive in the first place from an older relative of theirs. They're crossing the country for this, so a string of robberies seems risky business for someone who doesn't have to do much but stay out of trouble to make it big.”

 

Logan nods, pointing at a specific section of the board and adding, “Besides, says right here that he has alibis.”

 

“Shaky alibis and no motive?” He tugs off their picture from the wall, placing it into a box filled with other discarded photos.

 

For the next hour, they work down the line, occasionally tearing one down to add to the pile of no longer suspected suspects.

 

“Rose Quartez.”

 

“It doesn't seem likely; they've got no former ties to the group that they rolled with to even pull off that one old bank heist two years ago,” Patton smiles happily, moving to pull down the photo himself, “I think their wife of a coincidental two years is a really good influence on them actually.”

 

By the end of the session, Roman was rearranging papers to fill in the gaps of the disregarded profiles, board, if only slightly, noticeably cleaner.

  
  
  


~

 

_ “We just wanted to inform you that it is very likely that if your,” he adjusts his tie, emphasising his next word, “suspect… wanted to escape without your notice, he would only have to see you through that glass, and slip through a maintenance closet to climb out of the window that leads to that side alley,” he gestured to behind him. _

 

_ Sure enough, when he glanced back, Roman could see that he was indeed standing very clearly in front of the glass door, and through it, he caught sight of a sliver of plaque marking another door, presumably as what Logan had said it to be. _

 

_ Sighing he steps to the right, effectively blocking the alley way, technically never leaving his position either. Captain couldn't be as mad if they were being technical. _

 

_ Thinking better of it, he steps slightly back to the left, making sure to be just the barest bit visible, turning to make sure he had an unobstructed peripheral view through the glass. _

 

_ Logan nods once, moving to open the door for Patton to step through. _

 

_ “It was wonderful to meet you officer,” Patton enthuses, before stepping inside. _

 

_ Roman returns the sentiment, shaking the umbrella a bit as if to prove his point. _

 

_ Logan turns to follow after him, pausing to add, “We hope you catch your killer.” _

 

_ A firm nods is the final reply before before he steps inside. _

 

_ When the moment comes, Roman is quietly astonished at how closely it had played out to the way Logan had predicted. _

 

_ The suspect came into sight, stopping short five feet of the door Roman supposedly wasn't paying enough attention to.  _

 

_ He almost snorted when he watched him turn tail and attempt to walk stealthily back up the stairs he'd just come from. This was the moment Roman decided to rap on the glass, and in an instant as he was moving to grab the handle, the perp dove into the side closet. _

 

_ Dashing into action, Roman ran for the alley, handcuffs at the ready. It was hardly a scuffle to take him into custody. _

 

_ Later, when writing his report Roman would pause, glancing down at the borrowed umbrella. Later, he would track down the proper apartment with the intention to return said umbrella, and be pleasantly surprised at his warm reception. _

 

_ He would learn that, yes, Logan and Patton were indeed private detectives and that Logan did not so much deal in hunches but in variables, though Patton seemed to be the one to make up for his purposeful lack of imaginative  thinking, holding many predictions of his own up his sleeve. _

 

_ Over the next couple of years, Roman would grow higher in his status as a cop, as would Logan and Patton respectively. Working together only benefited all of them as time went on and case after case was solved, and they had earned quite the name's for themselves in their respective fields as a result. _

 

_ When Logan and Patton moved into their own building, accepting a few tenants of their own, Roman was more than happy to turn to them when the time called for it, and to likewise do what he could in turn. _

 

_ The umbrella never got returned. _

 

_ ~ _

Logan clapped his hands together, brushing off some nonexistent dust, “Now that that's over with,” he gestures vaguely at Roman, “Care to share with the class who you actually believe the culprit to be.”

Roman blinks in surprise, pulling a carefully separated folder from the bottom of the discard box.

“How did you realize…?”

Logan and Patton exchange a quick look, Patton speaking up first, “Well, you see, sometimes when you get these ideas into your head-”

“You are often as stubborn as a mule when you have drawn your own conclusions; pair that with the fact that you were willing to dismiss many of these people so easily based on our findings alone, and you get,” Logan gestures to the single folder in his hands.

He holds up a hand as if to defend himself, before ultimately huffing out a sigh with a nod of his head, spreading out the two documents on the table.

The first one was a photograph of a young man, around their age looking indifferently at the camera. Logan tries to parse the location from the rest of the photo, shrugging at Patton when nothing comes to mind. There were many places around the city with a brick wall structured like that.

“Where was this taken?” Patton asks absently, passing the other sheet closer to Logan's view. Basic information; age, fingerprints, street name, the very reason for him to be on file at all.

Logan glances up from the page, “And what is his real name?”

Roman shrugs, reaching out to tap the edge of it, “Street name: Anxiety. That's all anyone else who cares to look can seem to find.”

Stepping up to the window, he pulls aside the curtain, gesturing to the abandoned building across the way, “And it was taken right over there, back when the place was in business. It was a nice restaurant, very quaint. Very secure through some… less than pristine ties.”

“What did he do to the place?”

Roman cleans up loose papers while the other two gather their things.

“It's the first and only recorded instance of him and a small group of others stealing.”

~

A tall man in a black trench coat carefully hands a vendor his money, swiping a newspaper from the large stacks next to them.

Carving his way through the morning crowd clogging the streets and sidewalks of the midtown, he settles in an empty bench at the train station, flipping open the paper to glance through the days news.

When the next train screeches past, smoke briefly fills the space, everyone, himself included, fanning the air around them in the hopes of clearing it a few moments faster.

He hears the sound of rapid footsteps moving closer to his general direction, noting the purpose in which the source of them moved until it slowed to a stop right next to him.

Slowly settling the direction of his feet away, ready to escape if he needed to, he glances up, shooting a lazy smirk to the familiar lieutenant.

“Evening Princey.”

Roman lets out an almost exasperated sounding sigh at the old nickname, “Anxiety.”

“Now what have I done to earn your  _ pleasant  _ company on this fine grey time of the day, hmm?”

He watches closely as Roman picks up his discarded newspaper and flips idly through it until he stops on a page to point out a small story in the back, complete with a little picture of an exuberant man smiling at the camera. A familiar man.

Roman taps at the paper nonchalantly, “You ever catch wind of any films directed by Thomas Sanders?” He shrugs casually, folding it neatly back up again to place it next to Anxiety once again, “His work is local, maybe you'd’ve caught wind of him; what he's been through.”

Anxiety raises a brow, scratching lightly at his nose, “Been through?”

They both knew what he was insinuating, but was Anxiety really going to fess up after some half hearted attempts at keeping things discreet? Not yet. But Roman didn't need to know that.

The man in question, mirrors his expression, equally as unwilling to step out into the open and just say what was on his mind.

Another train blows its way through.

When the smoke clears, Roman waves his hand grandly through the air, “I merely meant that this small time producer and director has gone through many trials on his journey of creating many wonderful films- most recently, some of his more important equipment has been stolen,” he shoots him a pointed look.

Anxiety stares steadily back.

“How tragic.”

Roman huffs an almost laugh, fiddling with the pant crease of his uniform as he surveyed all of the different commuters bustling their ways to and fro through the station, just trying to get home.

“So why did you steal his stuff Mr. Panic-at-the-dancehall?”

He leans back, staring with a different sort of perspective at all of the people making their way by, tilting his head at the man when he glances back for an answer.

“What was that?”

Glaring with his eyes, Roman tries again, “Why did you ‘apprehend’ the equipment owned by Thomas Sanders?”

Anxiety smirks, and pats him on the shoulder consolingly, leaning back.

“I got paid to do it,” he says simply.

Roman perks up instantly, “Who paid you? Do you happen to know if it was anyone with a more personal connection to Thom-”

“It was D,” he cut in, watching as Roman sized him up and down, as if for the first time, looking at him properly since making his way over.

“You got commissioned _... _ by  _ D.” _

“Yeah,” he stares hard at the crowd, avoiding Romans eyes. It'd be so easy to slip away. A ghost lost in the sea of people, but. When he really considered it, he didn't want to slip away. Not this time.

“ _ Anxiety...”  _ Roman had pitched his voice lower, softer to the point where what he was saying was almost swallowed up by the cacophony of noise surrounding them. “What happened?”

He sat up, adjusting his hat to cover his eyes better, “Well you see Princey,  when someone pays you to do something they know you're good at- typically, when you need the mo-”

“That isn't what I meant and you know it,” His tone was clipped now, but they knew how he really felt.

Letting out a humourless chuckle, he sized the cop up in much the same way as had been done to him moments ago.

“That's a hell of a long time to wait to ask something like that…,” running his fingers through his hair, he shrugs, “You know how D works- when my parents owed his gang money, that was it for them. Absorbed into his system until they were gone. And then I left too, until he found me- which, you already know, so…” he held his hands out in mock surrender.

“That cut’s new.”

Blinking, he pulls back in surprise. Meeting Romans serious gaze, he brings his right hand in to cover his left.

“It was just a feisty secretary…” he furrows his brows, processing what he'd said, deciding to pinpoint on only one part of that statement. “What do you mean by ‘new’.”

His face colors slightly, and he stammers out that he'd seen him a couple of weeks ago at a mandatory line up and had just noticed his hands, and oh- it was his job to notice the little things, so…

Rolling his eyes, Anxiety stands, waiting for Roman to follow suit. 

“Look- just because some things have been moved, doesn't mean it can't get given back, and you know the deal. No cops.”

He looks slowly down at his own uniform, swallowing down a smile when Anxiety shoves him.

“You know what I mean.”

~

Heart pounding, Anxiety trails helplessly after Patton from room to room, barely questioning where Logan and Roman had gone off to. Barely.

Getting through the introductions at the door, he had thought that the two private detectives were harmless enough overall; though he guessed that that would not be his assumption given a little more time. 

Stepping foot through their front door however sent him immediately on edge.

The  _ mess. _

Everywhere he looked, loose papers and books. Writing utensils scattered everywhere, and that wasn't even  _ mentioning _ the random assortment of objects scattered between everything else on top of all of that. Was that a bundle of  _ feathers _ ?

Taking a small relieved breathe once he found himself in a, thankfully clean, kitchen, he carefully accepted a small cup of tea from Patton, settling a small bag by his feet. Logan and Roman appeared in the doorway, arguing testily about someone named ‘Harold’, each sporting two eggs.

Patton covered a grin, leaning down to his ear, “Harold is our chicken by the way; this is an old argument so no need to worry.”

He took a sip of his drink, shooting Patton a small smile behind the rim.

Flouncing over to the two still arguing, he motioned for the eggs, watching as they finally quieted down. Accepting their own drinks from Patton, they joined Anxiety at the table.

For all that he was here to do  _ good _ , the entire scene had a pleasant atmosphere. Too pleasant. He squirmed quietly in his seat, hoping that he wouldn't have to be the first one to break the silence.

Before too long of Patton's quiet humming, Logan stands to retrieve clean dishes, popping in toast the moment that Patton seemed to be nearly finished with the eggs.

When everything is served, Anxiety utters a quiet thanks along with Romans own, nibbling carefully at the food presented to him.

“Were you the one to steal Mr. Sanders’ equipment?” 

Anxiety, chokes at the blunt suddenness at Logan's question, grateful when Patton reaches out to slide his drink into his hands.

Nodding his thanks, he juts his head, indicating Roman, “Did he tell you anything about me?”

“Only that you, on the record, were tried and acquitted for an attempted robbery for a long since shut down location.”

Patton chimes in, “And the fact that you were unwilling to reveal your associates.”

He nods, “All true enough. These days I work for D.”

Logan presses his lips together, and Roman and Patton exchange a heavy look.

“-I trust that you recognise the little nickname.”

He smiles, the action not quite reaching his eyes, before continuing.

“He knows better than most what I am capable of accomplishing, and as such is more than willing to pay me if I can carry out a few tasks here and there. I’m here to tell you that I  _ did _ acquire the property of one Thomas Sanders, and that I am both capable and willing to retrieve it again to give back.”

Logan stares hard at him for a moment, finally moving to adjust his glasses.

“That is rather a long way of admitting that you are a thief.”

Anxiety shrugged, “Your words, not mine.”

Roman coughs, causing him to roll his eyes and reiterate.

“Fine _ , many  _ people's words, but still, that is a label I actively avoid. In any case- it may be a little… difficult to recover Thomas’ stuff. D doesn't trust me like he used to, not that I can say I'm any better in this ‘relationship’ of ours, but,” he shakes his head, glancing furtively at the back door, eyes trained on the shadows that occasionally passed behind the curtain, “I'm being tailed now.”

“Did you do anything in particular to warrant this decision against you?”

Anxiety shuffles discreetly away from Logan, making a face at his implications, “Not that I was exactly low on the amount of ‘favors’ I pulled for the guy, I can understand where he was coming from. Ever heard the expression ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”

“So you’re saying that you are enemies now?”

“What I'm  _ saying _ is that you don't always end up trusting the people that stick close to you, thus the constant surveillance,  _ thus _ the fact that it'll take me a little longer than I'd like to return what you guys are looking for.”

Patton finally cuts in, placing a hand on Logan's elbow, “Do they know that you're here? The people that follow you?”

He shrinks unwittingly into himself, replying guiltily,  “I don't  _ think _ so, I can typically lose them but they know that I always return to my place eventually. I wouldn't put it past the universe for fucking with me though; putting them in the wrong place at the wrong time, so just… be careful.”

“With whom?”

Anxiety closes his mouth, pressing it into a thin line.

“Would it be easier for you if you stayed with us?”

He watches Logan blink in surprise, his face mirroring the expression at Pattons offer. When he glances at Roman, he only nods, as if to say ‘it's up to you’.

“I- yes, it would…”

Patton beams, “Great! Follow me when we've all finished up our little breakfast snack and we can set up a guest room for you.”

~

Roman is the first to excuse himself, a mandatory meeting calling him back to work. Something about new higher ups to work under.

Standing up, Anxiety hunches into himself, muttering about walking him out.

Picking their way through the clutter, Roman allows them to walk quietly as they walk down the street.

Anxiety mumbles something about the ease it would take to break into an abandoned building they pass, and soon they both stop at the corner, Roman breaking the silence.

“You don't have to mind Logan too much, he just doesn't like people who lie, so it's really nothing against you personally.”

Anxiety throws him an unimpressed look, “Never lied about anything, not so far. You sure it's not just because of me? And the added fact that we just met?”

Roman hums, “Maybe the latter is a small factor, but only a small one. And you  _ did _ lie. By omission remember?”

He shrugs, conceding to his point.

“It's just a little disconcerting, not being trusted so up front. You get used to just  _ knowing _ it in your gut and that being enough for you.”

He breathes in the cool night air, turning to really assess the man beside him.

“Do you trust me Princey?”

The childhood nickname rolled as smoothly off his tongue as it did earlier that day. As it did all those years ago.

Roman crosses his arms and leans against the streetlamp, considering him.

The night was quiet, and Anxiety felt truly alone with him. The two of them and then the rest of the world, watching silently. He stood stock still, this moment feeling important. For all that he wanted to make some snarky comment to fill the silence, he didn't.

Roman sighed, leaning his head to the side, “We both know I'm more than a little biased when it comes to you… maybe, in another world? If you hadn't been one of the best friends I'd ever had? Of course I wouldn't trust you.”

“You saw things as pretty black and white back then.”

“Still do sometimes, it's who I am.”

He said nothing.

“Despite the years between us, and where we stand? To answer your question, yes. I trust you.”

The answer relieved him more than he liked to admit.

“What about you? Have any trust in there for me?”

Anxiety waves goodbye, beginning to walk backwards, “I hardly trust myself sometimes.”

He turns around, Roman calling after him, “That's not a no!”

A small smile tugs at his lips and he waves over his shoulder, watching as Roman finally left the lamp light.

Trust Princey to be one of the few people that could read between the lines when it came to him. Yeah. He trusted him.

~

  
  


Soon after, Logan pulls away as well, a tentative client wanting a public first meeting.

And then it was just Patton and Anxiety clearing up the mess. 

Patton motions for him to follow him through the hallways, “I know you've seen the rest of the house- I can't really lie to you, the only part of this place left unscathed was the kitchen as far as the ‘special organisation’ of Logan's goes.”

He nods wordlessly, earning a smile.

Shoving open a door, Patton leads him further into a bedroom not far from the front entrance. Gazing over the piles of assorted goods on the bed, he evaluates it for a good moment before shoving it all off to land on the other side of the floor.

“Well, it's a place to sleep?’ he grins sheepishly, shaking his head, “I remember the exact moment I told myself I wouldn't let Logan's ‘methods’ get in the way of a clean home.”

Heading back to the doorway, Patton scratches his head at the pile of things that had fallen behind it. “Would probably be easier to open and close this thing without all this stuff, huh?”

Finally waving to Anxiety, he smiles before stepping out, “Goodnight Anxiety- sweet dreams~”

He musters up a smile, waving back, “You too.”

And then he was alone, listening to Pattons footsteps as he drew farther and farther away. If he had to guess, he'd say he was in a room somewhere near the kitchen.

Pulling himself up to lean against the headboard, he draws his knees in, leaning his head on them.

They had already come up with a ‘game plan’ of sorts. Tomorrow, Anxiety would escort Roman through one of D’s less secure safehouse and retrieve the equipment. 

He sighed.

With his luck, they'd be stopped by every security guard in the place, or Virgil would be recognised and tailed again, or worse,  _ Roman _ would be recognised and then the people there would deal with the cop as they saw fit and-

He closed his eyes, taking a deeper breath, focusing on letting it out slowly.

They had a simple plan. Get in, grab what they needed from where he had stashed it originally, get out. Simple. 

Later, much later into the night, he can hear Logan make his way past, slowing when he passed by the door. Either out of courtesy or caution, Anxiety noticed either way.

‘ _ He doesn't trust you~’ _

“Tell me something I don't know.”

He finally stumbles his way out of bed, reaching for the nearest discarded scrap of paper. What wasn't so simple was the mess of this room, and the rest of this entire place.

He sighs.

The rest of the night wasn't a bad place to start to clean up a bit.

~

 

They walk casually through the older, more rundown neighborhood by the tracks, moving in such a way so as to avoid any potential and unwanted attention.

“You sure you don't want to carry?” Roman addresses Anxiety quietly, looking straight around suspiciously , “It might be good in a pinch, and I know you're trained enough-”

He cuts him off, “I don't do guns Princey.”

The houses have long since been left behind, and by now, the two of them walk carefully through the stacks of derailed freight cars.

If Anxiety didn't know any better, he would say that they were the only two in the freight yard. Good thing he knew better.

Twice he had to gesture to Roman for them to turn a sudden corner to avoid being detected by the goons that were hired to secure this place.

Laying his eyes on the correct train car, Anxiety leads the way with determined strides, pointing it out to Roman. It was separated from all of the others in the lot on all sides, but they could make it. They were so  _ close. _

The crunching of the gravel underfoot is the only warning he needs before he pulls Roman down and under the train car, nowhere else to hide. 

Heart beating wildly in his throat, it takes the footsteps wandering far off into the other direction for him to notice that he's pulled  Roman directly on top of himself in their small space.

Coughing lightly, Anxiety gestures Roman to slide off of him and out into the open again, taking comfort in the fact that his face wasn't the only one visibly heating up.

They move at the same time, crawling and wiggling out of the small space that Anxiety had somehow managed to pull them into.

“Nice save,” Roman murmurs, holding out a hand to help him up when he manages to gets to his feet.

Taking it, Anxiety pulls himself up, “Tha-” he stumbles into him, tripping over his own foot. His lips brush against his cheek, he is then only aware of falling sideways until, in the next moment, he is left looking wide eyed up into Roman face, mouth slightly agape.

“...did you just dip me?”

Blinking in surprise at his own actions, Roman moves to carefully stand him fully upright, stepping aside to let him open the train doors,saying jokingly, “Would you rather I had left you to the harsh and unforgiving ground?”

The kiss isn't mentioned.

~

They give the neighborhoods they had originally passed through a wide berth on their way to Thomas’ studio, Roman lugging the large bag of parts with both hands.

“You know, I  _ could _ carry this stuff back for you.”

He raised a brow, watching as Roman only hiked the straps more securely over his shoulder, holding it all the more closely to his chest the sixth time he had said something about it.

“Considering the fact that I, oh, I don't know, was the one to  _ take _ them in the first place?”

He smirks when Roman tosses him a sideways glance.

“I'll have you know that-,” a huffy breath to toss aside a stray piece of hair that had fallen into his face, “-am perfectly capable of carrying this bag of very important and expensive-,” he wobbles in place, striding to move faster than the equipment could fall, “-and  _ heavy _ ,” he cuts himself off, sticking his tongue out to Anxiety when he snorts.

Virgil saunters ahead, subtly pushing the steadily growing crowd of people making their way around them out of the way to make it  _ slightly _ easier on the struggling ‘chivalrous’ man trailing slowly behind him.   
  
He whistles a cheery tune, glancing back once in a while to catch Romans eyes, laughing a little every time he glared up at him.   
  
"What's in this bag anyway? A bunch of rocks?"    
  
Roman mutters a steady stream of complaints under his breath, consciously making it just loud enough for Anxiety to hear.   
  
Finally moving to tug him to the side, Virgil snags the straps of the bag, smoothly looping them over his own shoulder to hold for a little while.    
  
"Not that you have much choice, but would you like to take a couple of seconds to catch your breath before we continue this de-lightful journey?"   
  
Before he can protest, Anxiety shuffles the bag to hold up a hand, "I'm giving this back to you once we start off again so I'd take advantage of this little rest period if I were you."   
  
Shutting his mouth, Roman rolls his eyes, glancing around the little alcove off to the side of the large street corner they had found themselves on. Lining the sidewalks were booths and blankets laden with different wares, the vendors for each never too far away.   
  
His eyes catch onto a particular section of the street, the sun glinting off of various pieces of jewellery, holding his attention for a moment longer than the rest. A little old woman seemed to run the stand, apparently helping someone decide on a final buy at the moment.

Stretching his arms a bit, he gestures for the bag. He tilts his head at the contemplative look he finds on his face when he hands it back over.   
  
"You alright there Anxiety?"

He rubbed lightly at his chin, grin turning mischievous, and a sort of playful glint in his eyes.   
  
"You've never seen me in action before, have you?"   
  
Apparently the question was rhetorical, because once Roman caught on to the implications of his words he was already delving his way back into the crowd, and he was helpless to do much more than to try and catch up to him.   
  
"I sincerely hope that you aren't implying what I think you are implying because, regardless of the circumstances of what we are doing right now, I am  _ still _ technically Johnny law over here."   
  
Anxiety only shrugs in response, eyes trained on the vendor that he had been looking at earlier, and pulls down the rim of his hat to cover more of his face.

They're steps away from the stall.   
  
"Anxiety, you are not going to be stea-"   
  
He subtly pushes a small bracelet off of the edge of the wooden counter, bending down to pick it up quickly and deposit it back on the counter under the approving eyes of the vendor. Clapping her on the back in a gesture of goodwill, Roman watches as Anxiety quickly moves along, hand snaking out to retrieve a jeweled rose without the vendors notice.   
  
Opening his mouth to object and say  _ something _ , he closes it instinctively when Anxiety comes to a halt, placing the stem of it between his teeth, unable to reach up and take it out himself with what he was carrying. Furrowing his brows, he stares in confusion when he watches Anxiety lift his cap up again, and walk back towards the vendor to tap her on the shoulder.   
  
When the the old woman turns to properly look up at him, Roman is only made all the more confused when she lets out a hearty laugh at the sight of him.   
  
"I could have sworn that I would have been able to recognize you anywhere honey," she pats him gently on the cheek, and calmly accepted the money he passed into her hands after digging through his pockets, “And you worked so fast this time too. Was it the bracelet?”

#####  He nods almost eagerly in answer, holding his head up a little higher at her comments, a confident grin finding its place onto his face, “I guess I've improved a bit since last time.”  
  
She hums her agreement, taking his hands to inspect them, turning them this way and that before looking expectantly up at him,"What did you take this time dear?"  
  
He gestures behind them, to the rose still clamped carefully between Romans teeth, and she breaks out into a knowing grin.  
  
"A good choice for your, ahem, special friend?"

Coloring slightly at her words, he glances furtively over to him, before deciding that he was properly out of earshot, and nodding.

“Leddy,” he gestures him closer, “This is… an old friend. Roman.”

Slinging his arms gently over the older woman's shoulders, he continues, “Roman, this is an  _ old  _ friend of mine-” he dodges her little shove, grinning as she cackles at his emphasis.

Roman hums around the flower, and Anxiety plucks it out of his mouth, considering him for a moment, before carefully placing it into his front pocket. Roman stays silent, glancing down at the rose resting in his shirt.   
  
Snapping out of it, he smiles brightly, "Pleasure to meet you."   
  
Winking, she looks between them, "The pleasure is most certainly all mine."   
  
~   
  
Climbing up the front steps of the studio, the two find their way inside, looking around for Thomas. Eventually they catch sight of him in a back room, writing frantic notes down under a lone spotlight.   
  
Roman coughs, drawing his attention while Anxiety hangs back.   
  
"Mr. Sanders? We've recovered your things," he hefts the bag up to emphasise his statement.   
  
Jumping up from his seat, Thomas rushes to greet them, "You- oh this is wonderful news," he accepts the bag from Roman, heating it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and Roman and Anxiety share an impressed look.   
  
"Please, please just follow me!" He rushes into the darkness of his studio, reaching out to flicker on lights wherever he could.   
  
Lights illuminate simple sets, and props resting neatly on dozens of shelves, and the two hurry over to a large machine that he had stopped next to.

Scrounging through the bag of seemingly random parts, Thomas works to pop the loose pieces back into their proper places, until he's standing triumphantly beside them, hands on his hips, grinning broadly.

Roman scratches at his head, “I'll be honest with you Mr.Sanders- I'm just a cop so I don't quite see how this machine really benefits your films next to shooting them,” he smiles warmly, “But I am glad that you have everything together again.”

“Please, call me Thomas, and,” gesturing abashedly between them and the machine, he continues, “truth be told, I don't expect everybody to be interested in this sort of thing, I was a bit caught up in the moment.”

He grins apologetically, tilting his head slightly at the man in blacks almost pained smile.

He gestures absently at the contraption now behind him, “This machine is called a ‘vitaphone’ and it is the very reason that anyone is able to produce a talkie rather than a silent film…”

Clapping a hand to his head, he reaches out to shake hands, “I'm so sorry for being so rude, I've had the chance to properly acquaint myself with Roman, but I don't believe we've met before- I'm Thomas. And your name?”   
  
He accepts the hand carefully, grimacing, “I- I'm the one who stole the components to the vitaphone. Sorry about that.”

Freezing mid-shake, Thomas considers him thoughtfully for a couple of seconds.

“Well, it seems to me that everything has been brought back,” he smiles gently, squeezing his hand reassuringly, before letting go, “You are forgiven. And I do believe that that would be quite a long title to introduce yourself with,” he tacks on jokingly.

“You can call me Anxiety,” he answers slowly, brows knit in confusion, “Don't you wanna press charges? Turn me in?”

Thomas pats him on the shoulder, “Like I said, you brought everything back.” He raised a finger in emphasis. “ _ And  _ you apologised. Not that I condone stealing, but well- some things you just know you do or you don’t want to do.”

Anxiety frowns, shaking his head, “Alright just… be careful about that sort of thing in the future, and change the locks on the back left door to this place.”

They begin congregating to the exit, Thomas visibly taking a mental note of the latter suggestion.

“If you don't mind my asking…?”

Anxiety shakes his head, “Thomas, I  _ stole _ from you, ask whatever you'd like.”

“Why did you take it all? I've never noticed you around the movie scene, so I know it's not just because you're a rival…”

“D payed me to do it.”

Thomas swallowed, a flash of fear crossing his features before giving way to a quiet anger. When he meets his eyes again, Anxiety can see the determination glinting, but he doesn't dare ask.

“Thank you for telling me.”

He nods.

Relaxing, Thomas waves goodbye as they make their way up the street, getting farther and farther away.

~

Anxiety hesitantly offers his hand for a shake at an intersection.

“So I guess I'll just… see you around?”

For whatever reason, the prospect made his heart sink.

Roman took his hand, giving him a firm shake.

“See you around.”

Walking in their separate directions, Roman calls over his shoulder, “Not that I haven't been seeing you around already or anything.”

At that, Anxiety has to smile.

~

Cleaning up the remnants of their dinner, Logan and Patton turn to the kitchen door surprised when Roman walked in.

“Everything turn out alright kiddo?”

Logan looks behind him, noting Anxietys absence.

Sinking into one of the chairs, he nods, resting his chin in his hand.

“Everything went great. Got in, skillfully avoided some scarce security, got out and returned the components to Thomas’ machine.”

Logan pushed a piece of toast in his direction, settling beside him, “So it's done?”

He shrugged, idly watching Patton walk out of the room, “He even asked if Thomas wanted to press charges against him for stealing from him, which he said no to by the way.”

Logan raises his eyebrows, “Interesting…”

Roman shoots him a tired smile, “The part where he openly admitted to being a thief or the part where Thomas was willing to let him off without so much as a warning?”

Huffing out a laugh, he nods conceding to his thoughts, “Both I suppose.”

Stretching his arms over his head, he stands, “Perhaps, since he won't be coming back, I should clean up the room he was staying in-”

Roman snorts, laughing when Logan swats at his arm.

“ _ Fine- _ I'll just gather the sheets to wash for a later use, the rest of the room be damned. Happy?”

He gets a cheeky grin, “Very.”

Just then, Patton pauses by the door, with presumably the sheets already bundled up in his arms, “By the way, I like your rose Roman,” diverting his attention with a playfully pointed look, he continues, “Logan you should see the room Anxiety had been in- it's cleaner than the kitchen now.”

Roman nods knowingly, “He was pretty neat when we were kids too. Couldn't handle a mess for too long.”

Logan blinks.

~

 

Sipping slowly at his morning coffee, Patton smiles blearily at the kiss Logan had pressed on his cheek, giggling at his equally tired expression.

The two of them were many things, but the one thing they definitely did share, was the fact that neither of them were morning people.

Today felt like a slow day he decided, laying his head into the crook of Logan's neck, relaxing into his side when he wrapped an arm around him.

That was until Roman walked through the door, a quiet Thomas trailing after him.

~

“ _ Again _ ? It's been a week-!”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, as Thomas tries to apologise.

“No- it's not  _ you _ Thomas, it's just,” he meets Romans eyes with a pointed look, “I think we all know who did it.”

Thomas droops, “I just don't understand  _ why?” _

Logan waves his hand through the air, “He got paid to do it once. It's most likely that he believed he could be paid to do it again a second time and get away with it.”

Roman frowns, opening his mouth, but the words die in his throat when Logan glares at whatever protest he would possibly bring up.

“So what now?”

Thomas looks around at them, nervously wringing his fingers.

Patton looks at Roman expectantly.

He nods back, “I retrieve him again, and we get your stuff back,” expression grim, he asks, “When I bring him back, would you like to press charges?”

Sighing, Thomas shakes his head adamantly.

“I just want to talk to him.”

He thinks for a moment, Logan shaking in disapproval behind him. Roman and Patton notice.

“Maybe I could ask him how he keeps doing it.”

~

Gaze flitting over the seemingly empty street, Anxiety slips through the kitchen door, subconsciously making a mental note to tell Patton to stop leaving it open.

_ Not safe, someone could break in-  _ **_you're breaking in, and_ ** **_you_ ** **_aren't safe for th-_ **

The lights flicker on, and he ducks his head.

Patton makes a noise of surprise, drawing closer. Logan silently follows.

Licking his lips, Anxiety breaks the silence, “So- you two probably already know what I did.”

Logan looks him up and down, suspiciously. Something wasn't right.

“We do,” he prompts, making eye contact with Patton.

Still resolutely facing the ground, he opens and closes his hands, nervously making fists at his side, “I just wanted to say that- that I'll get it all back again-”

“And after that, will you only steal it once more?”, Logan juts out his chin, narrowing his eyes.

Frowning up at him, Patton lifts up a hand to stop Logan, and carefully makes his way closer.

“W-working,” he huffs, trying to take a steadying breathe and speak again, “This was just a second j-job. Working for D? You don't mess up.”

He hisses through his teeth, jerking back from Patton when he had reached out to touch his face.

Logan's eyes widened when he looked down at the blood that had come off onto Patton's fingers. Inhaling sharply, he stepped into Anxietys space to look more clearly at him.

A busted lip, and a shallow but bleeding cut from his jaw and nearly to his lips.

Nodding matter of factly, he nods to Patton to get the supplies from under the sink, and gestures for Anxiety to sit while he does the same.

He sighs, crossing his arms as he considers the man across from him.

“Who are you Anxiety?”

The man in question shrugs, quietly letting Patton step closer, nodding when he murmurs for permission to touch this time.

Logan continues to fill the silence.

“For as long as we've known him, Roman hasn't shared more than the fact that he suspected  _ you, _ personally, for the original charge of theft, only later accidentally letting slip that you had known each other in your shared childhoods. He usually doesn't keep secrets- why are you so important to him Anxiety?”

For a moment, he stays silent, only sound coming from the imperceptible noise of Patton dabbing at his skin to wipe away the extra blood.

Patton lightly pokes at the edges of the cut on his cheek, trying to gage it.

“This as shallow as it looks?” he asks softly, finally setting down the washcloth.

He nods, “Would've been worse if I hadn't dodged. Small blessings?” He tries for a smile, wincing at the cut on his lips. 

Patton frowns, saying adamantly,  “You don't have to be grateful that this isn't worse.” Putting the unused supplies back in their place, he joins them at the table.

Steeling himself, he turns to at least face Logan when he can't bring himself to meet his eyes.

“I'm a thief. I work for D when he commissions me. That is who I am.”

His eyes trace the wood grains, looking up when Patton taps at the table for his attention.

“You are someone who has gone out of their way to return something you'd taken, someone who's made friends with the vendors, who sought out the legal consequences for your actions,” Patton pauses, gesturing at the fingers he had been ticking off, “These are some of the things we've noticed about you. Some of the reasons we trust-”

He shakes his head, pressing his lips together, choosing not to comment. Instead he looks back up to Logan, addressing his original question.

“Back before D, I lived in the same neighborhood as Roman. Living in pretty close quarters with the guy, it was pretty hard to avoid him even if you'd want to, not that I wanted to,” he shrugs self consciously, fiddling with the sleeves of his suit jacket, “We became… good friends. For a long time. That just hasn't worn off yet is all, as far as what he feels for me now.”

He tenses when Roman himself steps into the room.

“Came in through the front,” he mutters. Striding forward, he stands in the place Patton had been in moments ago.

“What happened-?”

Anxiety's eyes widened in turn and he whipped his head at the entrance where he had come from.

“ _ Were you followed?” _

A crash, the sound of shattering glass, pushes them all to their feet. Faster than they all can react, Anxiety races out if he back door, the sounds of pounding footsteps and shouting can be heard going after him.

Roman lunges to the door, quickly looking over his shoulder to tell the others to stay where they were before pulling out his gun.

Running in the dark, down the street and and towards the general direction of where he'd heard the voices go, he slows.

Quieting the sound of his breathing, he slows down, taking in the silence that had fallen over the neighborhood. 

Anxiety was a lot of things- right now, he was hurt. To what degree, he didn't have the chance to see it all. He was also smart, Roman  _ knew _ this. He wouldn't have gone far.

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, and his blood freezes as he listens to the echo of it make its way towards him.

It was fine.

Licking his lips, he spots an old building. 

He remembers- remembers Anxiety saying how easy it would be to break into.

Walking along the side of it, he puts his gun away, inspecting the windows. He can almost bring himself to smile when he notices one left ajar on the third floor.

“ _ Easy,” _ he mumbles, eyes shifting over the wall for possible foot holds. Barely visible is the outline of loose bricks and hallows for him to utilise.

He sighs quietly, hoisting himself up.

When he finally nudges the window open all the way, he tumbles inside quickly standing to face the ragged breathing and scrambling of someone sitting in the corner of the room he'd found himself in.

The dim moonlight just barely illuminates the floor for him to step slowly closer. He hates how the moment feels like one who would approach a frightened animal. Grimly, he recognises that the analogy wasn't too far off from reality.

“Anxiety?”

Speaking softly, he works his way over to crouch by his side, heart constricting when he peers up at him with obvious fear in his eyes.

“They're gone now,” he murmurs, holding out his hand, palm up and relaxed. An old offering.

Anxiety takes it, only allowing himself to squeeze it tightly, the rest of him still curled into himself.

“I did it again _ …” _

Roman moves his thumb in slow, steady circles across his knuckles.

“We know.”

“But you  _ don't,” _ his head shoots up at that, gaze intense. “I did it  _ again;  _ you don't  _ do _ things  _ again _ for D. You either do it right the  _ first  _ time or you've failed.  _ End of discussion. _ ”

His hand shakes in Romans own.

“Do they know that you gave it all back?”

Licking his lips, he hesitates, “Not- not outright, no, but they don't need that,” hanging his head, he shakes it slowly, “ All they needed was the fact that I even had to do it again,” his breathe hitches and and he continues in a whisper, “I got scared and I could only think of their place to go, and now they know about them. They aren't  _ safe _ because of me-”

Roman wraps his other hand around his hold on Anxiety’s, cradling it close to his chest.

“Anxiety- you were trying to do a good thing. A  _ good thing _ . You didn't have to, I didn't have anything on you when I approached you at the train station; you and I both know that. But. You. Came.”

Anxiety shakes his head again, the disbelief clear in his eyes.

There was so much that needed to be said, but. Roman slowly manoeuvres himself to support Anxiety's weight, guessing that it was more than what he could see of him that had taken a beating when he prepares for them to leave. It would take more than a single night for Roman to really convince Anxiety of what he so desperately wanted him to believe. That could wait for now.

“I wanted to get it all back for him again,” he sighs out, leaning tiredly against him, “For Thomas… I didn't want to steal from him again.”

Roman nods, “I believe you- we'll get you back to Logan and Patton's place for now; talk more once you've gotten some rest.”

Anxiety tenses.

“I'll watch over you, they aren't after them remember?” He soothes, “We'll come up with a plan tomorrow.”

Trudging their way carefully down the old, dark stairwell, Anxiety pauses.

“...m’sorry for always keeping things close to my chest, it's a habit by now.”

“I know Anxiety. I know.”

~

 

The four of them talk.

They talk about the immediate actions of what needs to be done in order to accomplish the goal of helping Thomas. 

They talk about how Anxiety is being followed more closely than before.

About how he's lead them straight to their door.

About how he can barely rip his eyes away from the different exit points of the room, because his exits were  _ their entrances- _

They talk about these things, and these things alone. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

Until the end.

~

Muffling a yawn on the early morning night, Roman waves goodbye at the door, gaze resting on Anxiety.

He gestures for him to follow.

“You can stay with me at my place.”

“For now,” he mutters, stepping beside Roman to scan the streets. Every noise and twisted shadow accounted for.

~

Shielding his eyes from the glaring sun, Roman glances up at the tall brick building, the large glass windows of the office building glinting off even more light into his eyes.

“So- this complex?”

Anxiety nods.

“Yep.”

Straightening his tie, Roman shakes his head, following his lead when he stepped through the front doors into a naturally well lit lobby.

The space was clean, and simple in design, a couple of leather chairs lining the walls, two single occupied secretary desks deliberately placed next to two wooden doors.

When he heads towards the left, Roman follows suit, watching curiously as he mutters a few unintelligible words near the secretary's ear.

She jabs a pen to the door behind her, picking up the telephone on her desk to say say a quick word into it.

A large man opens the door from the inside, gesturing them through a short hallway.

When they get silently prompted to go through the second entrance, Roman gasps, nearly awed at the sight he is met with.

A warm but dimly lit smoky room with glittering chandeliers, and classy gold accents  _ everywhere _ there wasn't any dark marble and wood.

Anxiety nudges his side, smirking when he guides them to a small secluded corner booth with a near perfect view of the  _ live cabaret singer. _

Roman could cry.

“This place is the  _ best  _ place, and I need more of it in my life  _ right now _ .”

Anxiety cocks a brow, “A prohibition bar?”

He sighs defeatedly at that, “I know, I know, the very idea of it is technically illegal and all that jazz, but, but,” he makes a wide and sweeping gesture of the whole space, “Look at this and tell me it doesn’t have that certain style to be admired and longed for.”

Roman watches as he shakes his head slowly in amusement, looking up briefly to nod in confirmation when a waitress offers them a glass of water each before flitting away to the next table.

“Why the water? Not that I  _ would  _ recommend drinking while in incognito mode.”

He shrugs, “Staying hydrated makes it easier to avoid a hangover. Less evidence that way.”

Gaze drifting over to the stage, Anxiety smiles faintly, “I recognise her- a young singer in this scene. New. Goes by Dodie I think.”

Someone snaps their fingers close to Romans face and he has just enough time to register Anxiety getting into his space to loop his arm over his shoulder, posing to smile for the camera getting shoved into their faces, and  _ oh he should smile too- _

The flash goes off.

When the the light spots fade away from his sight, Anxiety is sliding back into his side of the booth, leaving Roman to stare incredulously between the receding back of the man with the camera and Anxiety.

“Commemorative photos?”

He laughs freely, surprised and a bit charmed by Romans wonder,“More like blackmail, but,” he snorts, trying to compose himself, but sure, commemorative photos too.”

The conversation lulls comfortably, and Roman gazes at his face, memorising the minute details of what made it up.

It turned sad when he remembered what he'd seen last night, hidden expertly away under a bit of makeup in the light of day.

Anxiety turns, catching his eye, “What?”

“That foundation’s hiding more than just your pretty face…”

Anxiety scoffs, avoiding his eyes.

“You’re capable of a lot more than what he forces you into,” Roman continues earnestly, stopping patiently when he holds up a hand.

“Just- like what? Give me something I'm good at,” he raises a brow, fully expecting nothing at all. He was a thief, nothing more or less to be said.

Roman smiles, unperturbed, “You’re very perceptive. That's very handy for meticulous work. You're a good people person, which is very helpful whe-”

A man in a flashy suit sidles up behind Anxiety, who turns around to catch sight of him as well. Upon laying his eyes on him, Anxiety sits up straighter, grinning.

“Angel~?”

“Well if it ain't Mr. Sleepy himself…”

He winks down at him, turning his chair around to get a good look at him. Reaching out to smooth down the wrinkles of his suit, he tuts.

“Now why didn't you tell me that you'd be stopping by darling? Especially looking as delicious as you do?” Jerking his head over, he stage whispers, “And you brought a fellow  _ snack _ too~?”

Anxiety, looks over at Romans reddening cheeks in surprise, “Well… I didn't know we would be coming- down! I didn't know we would be coming down… here,” he hastens to rectify, turning back to face Roman, flushing a bit at what Sleep could have said. He'd know him long enough to know it was best to choose your words carefully if you wanted things to stay clean.

“My names Roman, Mr...Sleepy?”

He speaks the name uncertainly, glancing quizzically between them.

Sleep clicks his tongue.

“I like you.” Winking, he nods graciously, continuing, “And that is something you may call me if you would like.”

Squeezing his shoulder lightly, he leans down next to Anxiety's ear, “Call me out of the crowd sometime, yeah? I'd love to get a hold of you and catch up sometime.”

Expression melting into something softer, and more genuine for a moment, he squeezes again before letting go. 

Passing by Roman, he runs a smooth hand up and down his arm, “Have fun on the rest of your date~ Treat my boy right.”

Laughing at the way they sputter about their not date, he rolls his eyes, waving goodbye as he melts back into the crowd of patrons.

Gaping at his back, Roman turns his surprised face towards Anxiety.

“...an old, ah, friend?”

The way he says it leaves a bad taste in his own mouth and he subtly sighs in relief when Anxiety snorts.

“Yes Princey, an old  _ friend _ . Just friend.”

His eyes go distant as he glances idly around to catch sight of him again, “We helped each other out when we were younger, looked out for each other when things got hard… it's been a while though,” he returns his focus to Romans face, “I'm glad things haven't changed much as far as how we click together goes.”

Roman nods, “I'm glad for you…” he smirks, “... _ Angel.” _

He laughs, waving his hand at him, “Oh shut up you absolute  _ snack,”  _ he grins devilishly, delighting in the spots of color now present on his cheeks. “It's how he talks and I think it's delightful.”

Coughing slightly, Roman nods reluctantly, “Agreed.”

Changing the subject, he glances down at his watch, “You think we've been here long enough?”

Anxiety nods, getting up to lead the way from the table.

Passing by the entrance, he plucks their now ready photo taken from earlier off the wall and passes it to Roman.

“Your keepsake.”

~

The waiting was the hardest, but now it was over. 

Virgil had the schedules of every guards rotation of the facility memorised, next to that he and Roman both knew how to get around confronting any other people they would happen to encounter.

Soon enough they were back out into the sunshine, heading carefully back to Logan and Patton's place, a smaller bag to carry for each of them.

~

“Is there any particular reason he wanted us to bring it here instead of his studio?”

Roman shifts guiltily, moving his weight from foot to foot, while Patton opens his mouth.

“Well, you see kiddo…”

“Thomas wanted to have a little chat with you personally,” Logan cuts in, quick to get to the chase.

Heart quickening, at his phrasing, Anxiety nods slowly.

“Makes sense…”

~

When he finally knocks on the back door, it's Anxiety who gets up to let him in, hands shaking as he shoves them into fists by his sides.

Thomas gestures in question at the two duffel bags at the table, earning a short nod in reply.

Glancing meaningfully at the others, soon it's just the two of them in the room. Thomas sits first, gesturing to the seat across the table.

“Would it be alright if we talked?”

Anxiety sighs, sinking into his seat.

A short nod.

“Are you happy?”

When Anxiety whips his head up to look at Thomas’ earnest expression, he shakes his head incredulously before stopping short, because that wasn't his answer.

“Yeah, yeah- I'm... happy?”

Thomas looks around the room, expression sad, “And what about when you're not in this place? What about in the things you  _ do _ ?”

Sitting up in his seat, Anxiety frowns catching Thomas’ eye, “Do you honestly think I steal to make myself  _ happy _ ?”

“Tell me everything then.”

Snorting derisively, he sneers, “And  _ why _ would I do that?”

Thomas’ gaze is steady when he looks back at him, and he watches as, more than anything, Anxiety begins to look tired. Worn out.

“I'm curious.”

“You’re ‘ _ curious’.” _

“And I suppose- it's more the fact that I'm willing to bet that you know, better than anyone, that you have choices to make. Some of them will make you happy, well and truly.”

Anxiety sits, stone faced, the cogs whirring in his head. Eventually, he decides that he has nothing left to lose. Might as well be honest.

They talk for a while.

Skirting some subjects, and delving into others. Thomas meets him halfway, explaining himself and his past with every piece of Anxiety’s story he's given in turn.

~

 

In the end, Thomas grabs his bags and heads to the door, Anxiety not far behind.

Turning, he offers his hand and they shake.

“See you later Anxiety.”

“See you around... Thomas”

~

Trailing behind Patton and Logan in the mansion, Anxiety looks idly around.

When Talyn comes back into the room, immediately making a beeline towards the two detectives, he steps back allowing them to talk. For a moment, he debates sitting on the black couch just beside him before a pair of eyes blink lazily open to stare up at him.

He blinks slowly back, and suddenly a black cat stretches before making its way to the edge of the seat, meowing insistently as it looked up at him.

Freezing, he moved slowly forward to pet them before the cat launched themselves into his arms. He adjusted his grip, smiling softly when it started purring.

Turning uncertainly, he noticed that the other three had stopped talking, instead staring at him with varying degrees of amusement.

Talyn grinned, gesturing him over, “I'm glad that Midnight seems to approve of you,” they say, reaching out scratch lightly behind its ears.

“So what have you got to say about all this? You've been awfully quiet this entire time,” they look up at him expectantly as he tries to form an answer.

“I'm not exactly…,” he flits his eyes over to the others, silently asking for help. Patton gives him and thumbs up, and Logan smirks, gesturing for him to continue.

“They merely want your professional opinion Anxiety.”

Sighing in defeat, he hoists the cat up more firmly in his arms, using his head to gesture Talyn to follow, “You might want to invest in some more secure windows.”

“More secure… but my house got broken in through the front door?”

He shakes his head, leading them to the door in question, “Nah, the door is fine,” he passes them their cat to swing it open, knocking against the wood, “Solid material so you're good as far as thickness is concerned.”

Pointing at all the different locks on the door, he takes out a screwdriver from his pocket, “Your locks are all a hair above standard, so that puts you at an advantage,” quickly taking out a screw from one of the locks, he holds it up comparing the lengths with his finger, “And these are a good size. It means they'll hold out against a solid kick against the door,” he replaces it just as quickly.

Patton pipes up, smiling slightly, “So you’re saying that whoever broke in  _ didn't  _ come through the door?”

He nods, pointing at him before gesturing to the entirety of the entrance, “Correct. There isn't any damaging to the frame, and the locks don't seem to have been distressed, so logically, whoever broke in only  _ left _ through the door.”

Logan catches him muttering ‘amateur’ before being lead to a pair of windows in an adjacent room to the front entrance. He suppresses the urge to smile, while Patton winks knowingly at him.

Two large windows stare imposingly at all of them as Anxiety takes a moment to inspect them more closely.

He gestures Talyn closer, pointing out a section at the edge of the panes.

“These thin strips are called ‘glazing beads’, They're meant to secure a window in place, and insulate.”

Walking over, he makes a move as if to push the glass, “May I?”

Talyn nods curiously, the meaning behind what he was trying to say dawning on them.

“When you don't have glazing beads, sometimes you can just-” he pulls on the edge of the pane, holding it carefully when it falls towards him, “-do that.”

Talyn stares through the now windowless frame, “What do you recommend? For me to fix,” they stick their hand through the hole, waving it around, “This.”

Anxiety looks over at Patton and Logan before realising that Talyn was looking over at  _ him  _ expectantly, waiting for an answer.

He coughs, slouching a bit, “There are windows manufactured to be made without glazing beads? You won't get the same quality of insulation but it'll be harder to break into, short of, you know- throwing a rock through the glass or something.”

They nod, watching as he replaces the pane he took down, “There's also those bars? Personally, I use those for my windows. Helps me sleep at night.”

“You wouldn't recommend I get some home security?”

He makes a face at the glass, smoothing his expression out when he faces them again, “I wouldn't, no.”

~

Walking back to Logan again and Pattons house, Logan turns slightly, catching Anxietys eye.

“I'm proud of you today.”

Caught off guard, his neck flushes a soft pink.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he turns to fully face the others at the intersection.

“Same time next client?”

Logan quirks his lips, “If you are indeed willing and prepared to continue working under us then-”

“Of course!” Patton finishes, giving him a quick hug. “You gonna be alright heading back to…?”

Anxiety shrugs slightly, “I'll actually be heading back to Princeys place; he wanted to talk prospects, but I guess I have a job now. Mine is-,” he pauses, “Eh, I'll go back ‘home’ long enough to move when things cool down.”

He nods in understanding, Logan tilting his head in thought, “Isn't Roman supposed to be on the job at around this time?” He asks, double checking his watch.

“He said he'd be home for me, so I should be fine.”

They exchange a knowing glance, waving goodbye one more time.

When they cross the road, Patton grins, nudging Logan in the side when they link arms, “The second time he said ‘home’?”

“I did indeed catch his particular inflection.”

~

Anxiety hums in thought. He supposes they wouldn't have much to discuss as far as his future was concerned since he was currently employed.

The subject of his past? He knows that that was one of those hot topics that he wanted to produce into, but Anxiety didn't want to go there yet. Not ever really, but he'd be ready eventually.

He pushes open the entrance to the tenant building, making his way towards the elevator.

Tapping fingers against the side of his pants once the metal doors slide shut with an ominous creak, he imagines a few likely topics of conversation that they would most likely end up talk about.

Stepping out of the hallway, he slows down on his to Roman’s apartment.

The door was ajar.

~

Heart pounding in his throat, Anxiety moved closer, listening.

The flat was silent.

Picking open the door further, he slipped carefully inside, momentarily debating on Shutting the door.

Closing it would make it harder for someone else to leave, giving him time to be on the offensive. But… it would do the same for him if he was overpowered. Leaving it open however left room for more people to just wander in, good or bad.

Slipping it shut, he flipped the silent locks into place, leaving the chains alone.

Slipping from room to room, he checks under and behind furniture, in the closets and out on the balcony. 

No Princey.

Nobody else either.

It wasn't like anything was too out of place, he thought, making his way back to the front door to survey the living room. But dammit it was enough to set him on edge.

The coffee table had slid a couple inches to the left, the vase that had been resting on top, nowhere to be found.

Gaze sliding over the room again, it lands on a framed photo, displayed proudly on one of the side tables.

Anxiety had locked up the door after himself when he'd left. He'd made sure to triple check. Roman had left earlier in the morning than him for the specific reason of being home  _ now _ , so he knows he wouldn't have put the photo up so deliberately even if he'd had the time.

It was the two of them at the bar. A photo that only had two copies in existence.

Swallowing his worry, he sits at the edge of the couch, leaning over to grab the phone and twist the rotary, dialing the local hospital. Maybe he just got conked in he head on the job, or broke a bone, or- 

“Hello- I was calling to check in and see if you had received any officers today?”

He bites his lip, listening to the person on the other end of the line.

“Roman. Roman Guard.”

Twirling the cord around his finger, winding and unwinding as they talk, he sighs, both in relief and apprehension.

“No it’s alright. Thanks- thank you anyway. Goodbye.”

Hanging up, he runs a shaky hand through his hair. So much for not worrying. For a moment, he entertains the morbid thought of checking the papers for the obituaries.

He shakes his head forcefully, shoving himself up to stand.

“That isn't helpful,” he mutters, trying to ignore the sour flavor in his mouth, “That is  _ so  _ not helpful.”

Besides that section of the paper wouldn't be updated until tomorrow.

Walking briskly to the door, he yanks it open nearly stepping into-

“Dodie?”

There she stood, in a nondescript shirt and pair of trousers. Certainly not as dressed up as the last time he had witnessed her on the stage, but no doubt it was still her.

She blinks in surprise, “How did you-?”

“Saw you singing at the club,” he answers absently, spotting the envelope in her hands. He points it out, “You got a letter for this place,” jabbing to the apartment over his shoulder.

“Oh right,” focusing up again, she scans the back of the envelope, “I'm supposed to deliver this to… Anxiety?”

‘They know I'm here.’

He holds out his hand expectantly, fingers only shaking slightly, “That'd be me.”

‘They  _ knew _ I was here. How long?  _ How long-’ _

The thin material slips into his grasp and he moves on auto pilot, lifting the flap of the unsealed envelope.

A single photo greets him.

Head bowed low to the ground, shoulders slumped and on his knees. It was Roman.

His ears are ringing and he crumples it in his fist, but not fast enough to escape from the minute details that catch his eye; the blood dripping from his face, the handcuffs keeping him locked to an old radiator.

In his mind, he can suddenly  _ see _ the way it had all gone down. He knew how D worked. 

First came the men with their razorblades, flashing in the light. The threats and the summons. A thinly veiled attempt to keep things  _ civilised. _

But he knows Roman, _knows_ he wouldn't go down without a fight and he turns to look over his shoulder, a ghostly image painting the scene.

_ Somehow, they find their way inside of his apartment- surrounding him in the living room. Not too many at first, no. In the moment he had a chance, and he grabbed the first item within reach. A vase. _

_ Blunt object. Weapon. One time use. _

_ He had his brute strength to rely on as well but that would only last so long before he was overwhelmed. _

_ Next always came the men with their guns. They didn't need strength or speed but it would hurt. It would kill- _

_ The apartment was so unnaturally clean, and he didn't even  _ **_try_ ** _ to gage for stray bullet holes, and he was  _ **_bleeding_ ** _ in the photo- _

An echoing voice begs him to breathe, and he sucks in a breath, heaving with the effort of it.

A hand hovers near him in his peripheral and he wonders for a manic moment if she knew, but.

Looking into her face, he slumps against the door. Her face was knit in genuine worry as she spoke nonsense words in a gentle tone to try and calm him down, but, more than that, she was just a kid.

His heart was beating fast, too fast, and little details were popping out to him, invading his attention.

The letter, her age and very  _ presence _ -

“You a messenger for D?”He manages to croak out.

She nods worriedly, eyeing him up and down.

Then she didn't know anything. Messengers were only ever made up the bottom tier of the hierarchy of D’s gang. They didn't know anything. You didn't ask, they didn't tell and you moved up from there until you didn't have to ask at all.

Moving cautiously, she reached back into her bag, pulling out a second letter.

“I was told to give this to you once you saw the first one,” she says in a warning tone, “You think you'll be up to it?”

He takes it, closing his eyes. “Yeah.”

He knew to expect the worst.

That didn't stop his blood from running cold when a single photo of a gun slid out.

An unearthly calm settles.

Breathing shallowly, but evenly, he turns it over for Dodies appraisal, nodding when she turns pale, “You may not know much of anything right now, and I don't know the kind of life you've been living before this ‘opportunity’ presented itself, but.” He clears his throat, trying to ease the rasp in his voice. “No amount of money is worth what staying with them will lead to. You got a pen?”

She digs numbly through her bag, handing it over to watch him scribble an address on the back of the photo, eyes unintentionally dragging to the crumpled and abandoned one lying on the floor.

He hands the pen and impromptu note over, “Go ask Thomas for work. I've seen your true talent and I know he will too. If he asks how you got there, tell him Anxiety sent you. Alright?”

Hesitating as she turns away, she glances back.

“Will you be alright?”

For a moment, he doesn't truly see her. He sees a kid who'd been alone and misguided not moments before. But she'd found somebody, or rather, someone had found her. She would be alright.

“I'll be fine kid… I'll be fine.”

~

Alone in the hallway, Anxiety mourns the loss of what he could have become. The man he could have been if the child he once was had stayed innocent.

He was here now because he'd foolishly thought that that this was the only life to look forward to.

And here he was now, here  _ Roman  _ was now.

Fix it, he needed to fix it.

He could do it. 

~

Walking past purposely long dead street lamps, Anxiety makes his way to the front entrance of the building. The night is anything but silent as the wind rustles bits of stray trash, and only a couple of streets over a dance hall illuminates its immediate  surrounding area, people streaming in and out. 

The cheer is palpable to the point that Anxiety was nearly sure that if only he would step into the light, he could touch it.

He turns away.

This was a trap, so obviously laid out. He briefly wonders if it made him any more of a fool for knowing this and still choosing to continue on anyway.

Pushing open the unlocked door, he strides through the dimly lit lobby. Empty of people save for him. No secretaries.

He pushes open the left door. No security guard.

In a place that he had only ever seen crowds of people occupying- the space only felt more empty then what he could have tried to imagine.

No music, no fancy lights, no people… well, actually.

“We could just run away again you know.”

He slowly passes between tables stacked high with upturned chairs, drawing his way closer to the man sat alone at the bar in his signature leather jacket.

Sleep repeats himself, staring hard into his glass before downing it.

“We could just run away again.”

“I can't-” His voice cracks, and he trails off, finding his steady resolve once again. “Things aren't what they used to be Sleep, they're different now. I can't leave him.”

Turning around on the barstool, he looks down at him, distinct emotions flitting across his face. Suspicion, worry, skepticism. 

“Is he really  _ worth  _ going after?”

Anxiety opens his mouth to reply, but still the silence stretches uncomfortably. 

Finally, Sleeps face softens, and he even looks… understanding, “I see.”

Standing up, he opens his arms to offer a hug,  to which Anxiety happily accepts, stepping closer.

Pulling back, Sleep solemnly hands him a key with a room number engraved onto it.

“They'll be waiting there for you,” a humourless smile, “But you already knew that the minute you caught wind of this whole affair, huh?”

He slides on a pair of sunglasses, hiding the tired look in his eyes, “Be careful darling. Stay safe.”

~

Roman starts from his position on the floor when he unlocks the door, clicking his mouth shut when D stalks in after him, eyes tracking their movements. A couple of other menacing figures lurk in out in the hallway.

Meeting his eyes briefly, Anxiety glances him over, standing a couple feet away, face resigned. 

D grins maniacally,  hovering just close enough to Anxiety to whisper into his ear, constantly moving around him.

“ _ There, safe, just like I said. Once you finish the plan, everything will be alright for him.” _

Roman tilts his head trying to meet his gaze again, straining to get him to understand, he needed to  _ leave _ .

On purpose or not, Anxiety averts his gaze staring up at D, who continues to speak casually. Fingers curling and uncurling subconsciously, he tries to count his breaths, stilling everytime D came particularly close.

“ _ Of course once you're done, none of your little,”   _ D’s nose wrinkles, and he almost seems to laugh with his next words, “ _ friends will be able to trust you again… if they ever did to begin with. And if they decide not to skip town that is. You'll have to stay with us in the meantime, stay safe and out of trouble with the cops that won't trust a theif.” _

Romans nose flares and he yanks on the handcuffs to draw their attention, having enough with what he had to say, “Anxiety get out of here-”

“ _ -Yes Anxiety… get out of here. You have to get to work soon…” _

He stays rooted on the spot, staring steadily up at D, and the silence grew.

Someone huffs in the hall, and a woman snaps her fingers to make her way inside. The knee length purple skirt swished softly, following her every move.

Fiery eyes train on Anxiety, “He said to get out of here, so get  _ out _ of here,” raising her hand before anyone can say anything else, she slaps him across the face, expression wrinkling when she sees the makeup come off on her fingers.

D waves out a handkerchief, trying to appease her, “ _ I'm sure we can allow him a bit of time- this is the reason he came after all.” _

She rubs her hands clean, silently shoving the cloth back into his chest as she rakes her eyes over Roman, “Fine. Perhaps,” a pause and a breathe meant meant to meant to gather her control once more, “I was acting hastily. I'm very invested in your plans you know,” she turns a sickly sweet smile on Anxiety, “Do you forgive me?”

The only reply is a silent nod, and her expression tightens before they all step out of the room, moving away and down the hall, off to wherever they needed to be.

Slowly clicking the door shut, Anxiety turns back to Roman, taking a couple of steps forward before falling to his knees like a puppet cut free from its string. His hands hover for a moment, eyes darting more rapidly over him than before as he catalogues different injuries, assessing his state.

Short of anything to say, Roman keeps quiet as Anxiety moves around him to pick the locks of his handcuffs, rubbing at his wrists to get the circulation flowing again.

And then they were sitting face to face. Or rather, Roman was looking to Anxiety as he kept his eyes trained to the floor, expression far away.

The things that they had been saying in the room; Roman could only speculate what thoughts they had been feeding him in any other moment. For all of those years. The idea didn't sit well.

He reached forward slowly, lightly grabbing his wrist for his attention, painfully aware when he felt him stiffen under the simple touch.

“Anxiety?”

His eyes slip shut, and he shakes his head, back bowing lower.

“I'm sorry that I brought you here- that I did this,” eyes flashing open, he looks up and the hand not being held hovers once more, moving as if to cup Romans face.

Leaning into the almost touch, Roman bites his lip at the brush of bruises, searching for the right words to say. His eyes find their way back to Anxiety's own expression.

Tired. More than anything, tired.

“Anxiety, listen to me. Don't believe him, not a word of it. You don't have to be under them anymore, get out of this place and away from these people.”

His eyes flash and then dim in response, “It's all true and you know it, don't- don't lie to me. Tell me anything, tell me the truth, but don't lie to me.”

Reaching up to grab the wrist still cradling his face, he tries again, “Anxiety-”

“Virgil.”

His breath catches, and he stares, understanding.

“Tell me the  _ truth, _ ” he begs, waiting for the hate and resentment. The negativity that  _ always  _ came, because his wasn't the life you lead expecting the rewards of kindness and trust.

“Virgil.”  _ Virgil.  _ His name is  _ Virgil.  _ “I am. You have to believe in me when I say that you can't listen to them.”

“I'm a thief Roman. I've said it so many times… what else can I expect out of all this, when it's lead to you-”

“I trust you.”

He leans closer, eyes slipping shut, resting their foreheads together, and listening to the sound of their intermingled breathing.

Virgil's is shaky.

“You trust a memory.”

“And yet here you are, as real as anything you had ever been in my life.”

~

Headline after headline boasted over the string of robberies targeting the variety of businesses around the city.

Logan mutters incoherently into his coffee, tossing down the mornings papers.

“What are you thinking Lo? Talk me through it.”

Shaking his head, he sets his coffee down in favor of jabbing his finger at the assorted titles of the different newspapers spread across the table.

“It doesn't make sense Patton- all of these small businesses are being targeted, and that's the only clear information that we've been able to glean from the existing facts.”

Patton slides an open notebook closer, tapping the only portion helpfully circled in pen.

“There's also the subsequent connection; all of them eventually signed in with the company ‘Scale Security’. Paying to protect their businesses… isn't this-” Patton leans back, tilting his head at Logan as he asks, “-the place that Roman and Anxiety went to retrieve Thomas’ stored gear?”

This didn’t help Patton's argument. He stares incomprehensibly at a small section of the papers, running fingers through his unkempt hair, “And I already told you who I believed to be the culprit-” 

Patton cut him off, “And I already told  _ you  _ that just because Anxiety's previous profession involved stealing, doesn't mean he's the only one in this whole city capable of being our thief.”

“And what will you do if it  _ is  _ him?!” Logan snapped, unable to keep the frustration out of his tone. In the short time that they'd had to discuss the growing case, they'd run circles around Anxiety's innocence the moment it had struck Logan as a possibility given the circumstances...

“Whatever I do is what I'll think is right in the moment if it  _ is  _ him. You know my stance, and you understand the logic in my own argument.”

Tilting his head, he sighs resting his hand on top of Patton's, squeezing lightly and moving to gently link their fingers together, “I apologise for my outburst, and you are indeed correct. It is all very circumstantial from our point of view,” he moves his thumb in a steady sweeping motion over Patton's hand, deliberating over their next course of actions.

“I believe it's high time we visit Roman with our observations, don't you?”

Patton turns his hand to hold Logan's own properly, giving him a gentle squeeze, before standing up to stretch, “Oh I'm sure he's already noticed the company,” he smiles, “I'd love to ask him to get contact with Anxiety. I'm sure that would clear up whatever information you'd need to get him off the suspect list in your head,” he leans across the table, tapping Logan's forehead in emphasis, laughing when he gets swatted at.

“Finish your coffee and we can go get a move on once we're both dressed more properly.”

~

They waltz into the station as easily as they ever had before, turning the heads of a handful of the other officers that recognized the pair, going about their tasks.

Most look away when they are caught, and others? Guilt shows plain as day, and the two private detectives can't seem to place it. It's unsettling nonetheless.

The usual room is dark, the bulletin board untouched as far as any further developments revolving the large case is concerned. They slip out, making a beeline towards his personal desk.

No Roman.

Logan searches vaguely through some loose papers, hoping to get some sort of clue to his whereabouts, Patton moving away to corner a couple of officers that had been staring since their arrival. Staring as they'd been looking for someone who was obviously nowhere to be found.

“Any of you have any idea where he's off to right now? Any mentions of family or friends-?”

They mutter between themselves, before one steps forward, taking pity on them. He clears his throat, standing up a little straighter, “ Listen…” he makes the face of someone trying to explain something delicately, “As awful as it is, sometimes, people just leave. What with the way most of this city is run with such lawless-,” he cuts himself off, taking a moment to compose himself before trying again.

“Sometimes people leave, and there isn't anyone around to really question it until it's too late.”

Pattons blood freezes at the sad lilt of his voice, the unsaid implications ringing in his ears when he turns to Logan, who'd come up behind him to listen in. 

They look at each other, and they know it's true. Thanking him for his explanation, even with how vaguely it had been presented, Patton drags Logan out of there to get to a place with less ears.

“Taken.”

Logan attempts at staying still, shuffling in place before ultimately giving up, stalking back and forth in front if him, pacing in thought, “You’re right that he was taken, but-”

Patton cuts him off, finishing his sentence when he leans heavily against the wall.

“-why?”

Thinking hard, Patton listens to Logans mumbling.

“He has been working on the case since the very first robbery, but perhaps D had finally caught wind and- but that doesn't make sense unless,” he turns to point at Patton with an air of certainty, “Anxiety.”

But Patton isn't looking at him, but rather, at his hand. Following his gaze, Logan pulls back slightly to finally take the time to inspect the jeweled rose in his grasp.

He carefully tracks the quiet thoughts that seem to flash across Patton's face when he explains. “I found this in the top drawer, grabbing it because I believed it was important. Wasn't this a gift?”

From Anxiety.

A sharp inhale reveals the clarifying thought to strike Patton, just as he thought it would. His heart sinks with the sadness that flashes across his face before he even begins to explain himself.

“Logan- we know that Roman cares for Anxiety,” he steps closer, pushing the rose a little closer to him to hesitantly emphasise his train of thought, “If he were to reciprocate his feelings…”

His jaw clenches, eyes locked onto the flower. If Roman meant as much to Anxiety as they suspected.

“How much did he care?”

It was rhetorical. Unnecessary to the point of a brief and quiet shame that filled Logans head at his previous assumptions. 

He shakes his head, visibly clearing away his stray thoughts. They had the facts now, of course there was more to learn,  _ there was always more to learn- _ but. They would find the truth.

“Enough.” He finally answers, tugging on Pattons arms for them to leave, the two of them rushing home.

~

The door is open. Only a sliver, but enough to make the pair stop in their tracks.

Logan gestures Patton behind him, slowly pushing it open so that they could slip inside.

A figure sat crouched in front of a pile of loose documents, sifting through them frantically. Looking up at the ceiling, Anxiety blinks rapidly, trying to keep his frustration at bay.

He didn't know where to even begin looking for the papers he needed to take, knowing that perhaps even Patton and Logan didn't know-

He stills, eyes falling on the pair in the door. His expression blanks, fear and worry falling away to a stoic facade.

Patton breaking the silence first, takes a step closer. “Anxiety?”

He stands, eyeing the exits he'd already catalogued. He glares, voice rough when he speaks, “You can't trust me anymore.”

The number of exits halves the closer they get, but he can still leave. There was another door to run to. One short hall and a through the kitchen and then he would be gone.

He turns to bolt, freezing in place when Logan says, “I never trusted you.”

He glances over his shoulder, tensing when he moves closer, but otherwise staying in place.

“I didn't trust you because there was only so much I had to work with, only so many facts in my grasp, and certainly you didn't try to change my opinion over you.”

Anxiety turns away, eyes set in the door.

“Of course,” Logan amends softly, “Nor did I when it came to the conclusion I had drawn. That fault is mine.”

He jumps when Logan manages to quietly come up behind him, hand encircling his wrist. He resists the urge to pull away, registering the fact that his hold was light, loose in the way that he could leave if he wished.

“Anxiety? You know where Roman is.”

His tone was steady and quiet making that statement, unaccusetory.

Something in him snaps, his face crumpling as he sank to his knees, unshed tears finally releasing. But, unsteady of falling, Logan had wrapped his arm around him, slowing his fall to gently set him on the ground, keeping his protective hold over him as he cried.

On his other side, Patton crouched down, rubbing soothing circles into his back. When he tried to bring a hand to his mouth to muffle his cries, to pull himself together again, Patton laced their fingers together, squeezing supportively.

“Anxiety? I won't lie to you, this is a shitty situation,” Patton's eyes soften when he watches the other man take a slower, more deliberate breath, before continuing, “But more than that, or at least next to that- we won't let you face this alone.”

Logan hummed his affirmation.

“And we certainly aren't the only people who could help you, the police-”

Neither of them miss the way he tenses.

“-have officers that we have personally evaluated over the years. For now, it is only a matter of trusting us to get Roman back.”

When he moves to stand, they don't resist his pulling away, merely rising to stand beside him. 

“...I'm the witness they need to make a move. I can trust you for him, I can trust  _ them _ for him.”

There isn't a shadow of a doubt when he finally meets their eyes.

~

Sooner than he expected, though not soon enough, Anxiety- Virgil… found himself in a small room with the proper people necessary to signing off the warrant they needed for an eminent arrest.

The bustling police station had been a point of warring contention for so long, but Patton and Logan were just outside of the room, and things were  _ getting done _ .

He'd been more than a little stunned when Logan had pressed the small rose into his hand, directing him towards and asking him to return it to Romans desk where he'd previously taken it from.

Settling it carefully in the first drawer he'd slipped open, he'd been surprised at the multiple coworkers that that had approached him. Asking about his relationship with Roman no less, a few even going so far as to describe the better descriptions of him that Roman had previously shared.

It had been bittersweet. Endearing and heartbreaking at the thought that-

He could worry about all of the ways that this could have gone wrong  _ later _ . They couldn't afford anything less then perfection at this point. He couldn't afford anything less than perfection.

~ 

The ride over was a blur, the police cars about as inconspicuous as they could be where they had parked, flanking the building of Scale Security.

Which is to say, not at all if the bullets spraying the ground in front of them was anything to go by. Cops around him were shouting orders and tactics over his head, but Virgil pulled out his own gun behind a car, eyes scanning the numerous windows.

_ “You carry?”  _

_ Logan had asked, cocking his head curiously to the side, eyeing the firearm he'd disassembled. _

_ He'd shrugged, putting it back together again. _

_ “I'm trained and certified, but this thing,” he'd given it a small shake, “is a loan as part of the deal. I make a point not to own one of my own.” _

_ He'd said it with an air of finality, not leaving any room to further the discussion. _

Despite the defense, clusters of cops made their way inside one group at a time to storm the facility. Still, Virgil stayed put.

He could feel the way his hand trembled, hardly trying to lie to himself about his intent.

D was hardly one to stay out of the loop, never one to ignore analysing a situation to see how how he could twist it to his benefit.

He'd already found the room that Roman had been kept in, eyes trained on the window, gun loaded.

The world slows when a flash of black moves across the window.

He inhales, finger on the trigger, aim steady.

He takes his shot on the exhale, and in that moment, something inside of him comes to an end somehow. A weight tumbles from his shoulders.

It's over.

~

“Logan, for the last time- I'm a little cut and bruised, but I'm fine.”

Roman shook his head in exasperation, smiling when Logan grumbles under his breath about the doctor's diagnosis saying otherwise.

All the same, he allows them to escort him from the hospital, mind cataloging everything they had told him about the take down of D’s main lair. And his subsequent rescue of course.

A frown mars his features.

In the end, it had all boiled down to Virgil.

Him being the key witness to push for the search and seizures, him being present in the rescue itself according to Logan and Patton,  _ him _ being the one to shoot down D to incapacitate and incarcerate him for the rest of his life. And yet.

“Where is he?”

Patton and Logan exchange a worried glance.

“Did he not inform you that he was leaving?” Logan asks carefully, slow and calm as if he were an easily frightened animal.

Romans heart stutters at his words.

“When?”

“He should be flying out today-”

The answer hardly finishes leaving Pattons mouth before he takes off running, a terrible sense of de ja vu overtaking him.

~

_ They are 10 and 11 respectively, not quite neighbors, but close enough to run into each other enough times to call each other friends in the way only young kids seemed to do. _

_ “Why can't I just know your name?” _

_ “Nicknames are cooler, and my parents said not to anyway.” _

_ They are 12 and 13 respectively, feeling out a tentative friendship that feels almost like it could last past the boundary that there living proximity had provided. _

_ “I think I want to be a cop when I'm older. Help people.” _

_ He'd meant it in a way that would define his character for longer than he'd realized at the time. _

_ “What about you?” _

_ “I don't know. My parents jobs have some errands for me to run, so I have time to figure out what I really want later I was guess.” _

_ They are 16 and 17 respectively, far too young to bear the burden of reality and somehow managing to stand somewhat steadily beneath it anyways. _

_ A bedroom window, the cover of darkness nearly meaningless with the light of the moon and the stars to illuminate the two boys. _

_ “Anxiety, you know how I feel about you hanging outside of my window,” one chides softly, but without heat. It was an old argument. _

_ “I know, I know- I just… needed to tell you something.” _

_ A curious tilt of his head. _

_ “I love you.” _

_ His arms weren't just shaking from the effort of fighting gravity as he held fast to the wall. Slow hands pull his head closer and suddenly it's a chaste kiss that nearly sets him tumbling. _

_ “I love you too.” _

_ The sentiments are returned with a beaming smile that hurt to look at, eyes narrowing playfully when he mutters about how how he should go back to sleep. _

_ “I'll see you tomorrow?” _

_ He doesn't say it back, beginning to climb back down. Sounding regretful,  these are the last words he hears him say for a long, long time. _

_ “I have to go Princey. See you later.” _

_ ~ _

Roman races across the tarmac, shouting as loud as he can to the black clad figure about to step into the plane.

Virgil turns, saying something indistinct at this distance to the pilot inside, before climbing back down the stairs to meet him, plane engines a steady rumble beside them.

And then he's standing in front of him, all the words in the world meant to convince him to stay escaping his grasp. Instead, he settles on this, because it is all that matters in this moment until the moments that will come after.

“Why?”

He fixes him with a hard stare, eyes moving as if trying to commit the planes of his face to memory.

“I have to go,” he says simply.

Roman restrains himself to a degree, reaching out with one hand to take one one of his, “But what about your life here? Are you that ready to leave this all behind- the good with the bad?”

Are you that ready to leave… me?

He was nothing if not a selfish man to try and convince him to stay for  _ him  _ of all things. But then again, Roman never did consider himself a saint. He'd obliviously watched him slip off and away into the night once already, and he'd decided that knowing now seemed the worse of the two.

“Is it worth the time it will take to really destroy underground empire he's built up over the years? Is it worth being this afraid?”

Despite his questions, his eyes trailed to their linked hands. Expression considering.

“I'll protect you.”

Hardly a logical statement. Nothing could truly aid in his pursuit, even if he made it his priority above all else in his life.  It didn't mean he wasn't going to try. It didn't mean that he somehow didn't mean it as surely as he knew only one person held his heart.

“And who will protect you?”

As soon as the question leaves Virgil, the both of them are struck with simultaneous thoughts.

Roman with the idea that he would simply have to look out for himself in the inevitable times where he would end up alone.

And Virgil…

He lets go of his hand, going up and into the plane without another word.

Swallowing, Roman takes a step back, and then another, and then another until- silence.

The plane stops.

And Virgil steps out.

For good.

 


End file.
